


Take me home

by blueishdesire



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017), Call Me By Your Name - All Media Types
Genre: CMBYN - Freeform, CMBYN writing challenge, Hanging Out, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-03
Updated: 2018-08-17
Packaged: 2019-05-17 15:18:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14834759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueishdesire/pseuds/blueishdesire
Summary: It's for CMBYN Heart Eyes Writing Challenge.My theme is hanging-out





	1. Out of place

**Author's Note:**

> To be honest they don't hang-out much but I wanted to add something from myself to this challenge and also had a mood for something like this. So forgive me if it doesn't quite fit to idea.

            I missed the sound of his voice, followed by the sound of my own voice when I tried (and almost always failed) to sound as clever as he did. There was time, and I recall it vividly from my memory, when I thought only to be with him. As other things just didn’t matter or speaking more precisely they _didn’t matter_ because I would be with him. He was my homecoming. That thought always possessed me entirely, not leaving a cell in my body not wanting to feel him. To just grab him and pressed to me, to feel his hot skin on my skin, to feel his unique scent in my nostrils. To be overwhelmed by his own presence in the same space. To just be. There. With him. Back in Italy. Back in Crema.

            To shut it down was roughly impossible.  Somehow I found my own way, by always doing something – working, running till my lungs begged me to stop. Occupying myself with everything I could find just to not mesmerize in that feeling. I managed to stay afloat, to just exist as mere copy of myself.

            Even though I could exist with this feeling stuck in some part of me wrapped, closed, sealed in a box. Even though I could convinced myself to not open this pandora box ever again. It was only matter of time, before it was leaking, slowly spreading in me, once again reminding. Not only what I’ve left. But foremost what I’ve lost. Eventually I understood that I couldn’t get rid of it. It couldn’t be cured. It will always be in me. And I would never be whole again.

Strange things happen when you don’t really expect them. Or it’s because they’re utterly abnormal and you didn’t really thought it could be possible. Or because shitty things just happen but you’re just not ready and they always come in a tone of surprise.

            Firstly I thought it was my imagination. My projection of him in here. In my city. In my own office. _Fucked-up_ dream. Everywhere I’d go I was always seeing him. His curls. His green eyes. Always incomparable to him. But I couldn’t fooled myself this time. _Elio._ Blood and flesh. Real as me.

            I miserably failed to find words. My throat was as dry as dessert. There were no decent words to say. I left him. I couldn’t change that.

“Elio” I managed to whisper after a while, afraid that my own voice would sound harsh

            He smiled. And it was all I dreamed of so many nights. He sat down in front of me, resting his palms on his thighs. If his presence wasn’t enough to overwhelmed me, looking at his long, still pale fingers undo me in seconds. At some point I forgot how to breathe. How it’s even possible to fill your lungs with air, providing oxygen to your body, produce oxyhaemoglobin in nanoseconds and still not pay attention to this process. I’ve took gulp of air, feeling ache in my lungs, slowly becoming conscious of the situation, but still failing to find proper words.

“It’s nice to see you” I finally said “ It’s been like …” my voice faded away

“ 4 years” he said and looked at me. Thinking maybe that I didn’t, as he obviously did, unconsciously count all those years that passed. But I was like him, day after day, hour after hour, all of it reminding me that he was not here, that he was on other continent, whole ocean between us. Yet  always closed at hand. But as back then I was afraid to grab and hold him. He was the brave one. And we both knew it.  

“Oliver” he said eventually and I died hearing his voice speaking my name in the room that was projection of me “ I didn’t want to … _fuck_ I didn’t mean to surprise you or even scared you. I’m in town for few days and … well I really thought it was good idea to come and say hi”

            Now it struck me. The way he was looking at me, the way he was speaking. I would lie myself if I would say that I wasn’t dreaming about this to happen. To see him again, to speak to him again, to hold him and kissed him. In some other, parallel world. Somehow here he was. And I could tell that he was different. That he wasn’t Elio that I met and loved. But maybe neither of us was the same person after that summer. He changed. And I felt miserably, because that was my fault. He was not this precocious, unguarded, opened Elio that I knew. I couldn’t see through his mask and it was something unbearable.

“Can we talk?” he finally asked. I nodded knowing that I couldn’t stand to sit here with him anymore. That I needed more space between us, not just my desk.

“We can walk and … talk” I said grabbing my things. He looked at me and in instant I could see my old Elio again. As soon as he was there, he was gone and I knew I should get use to it. Because the summer was gone. Because we were in New York not in Cream. Because I left him.

“ Were are we going?” he asked when we were finally outside. He didn’t know the city, I could tell. I decided for both of us.

“Central Park” I simply said. He nodded in comprehension and said nothing. I didn’t know if he will like it. It wasn’t Italy countryside but we could talk there peacefully without being overheard. And for my sick pleasure I wanted to see him there, because I dreamed countless times about it,  I couldn’t let this opportunity pass.

“ How’s your parents?” I asked when we finally entered the park and all the noise died away.

“They are … good. Really good”

            I should say something. But it was all odd and surreal. Walking here with him, my body next to his body, our shoulders almost touching. Sometimes I was mercifully grateful that none of it happened here. In New York. Because I wasn’t tempted to go all over those places, where we’ve been. That not even one, small kiss was printed in some dark alley. Now, all I could think of was that he was here and I’ll always be getting back here just to feel his non-existence presence in this place. Hoping, that in some twisted way, it preserved his ghost. My ghost spot

“How long will you stay?” I asked after a long time to crack the silence that fell between us.

“ I don’t know it yet. Couple of days or maybe more”

            I wished he would say _forever._ That he came here to claim me once again, that I belonged to him. And I wished in that split of second that it was the true, that he found me to save both of us, to make me feel happy once again. But I knew, deep down in my soul, that time passed. And things that I said or did, couldn’t be changed so easily. No matter how hard I wished.

“I’ve met someone” he finally said. It came more as whisper and it was all to break my heart. He was asking for my permission? It was a plea?! That I should finally and forever let him go. I should say yes, because I wanted him to be happy. But, as always, there was a selfish part of me. A part who wanted him so badly that me entire body was in pain. Screaming that he is mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. That he belonged to me as I belonged to him.

            He stopped abruptly. Obviously waiting for my response. But as I always projected myself as a person who knows how to express myself, once again in no time I was struggling to find anything in my mind. What he wanted do hear?! What I supposed to say to make him happy?! It was all about what I could think. So we stood there. In the middle of park, facing each-other. It was not a face of Elio that I’ve met, that I’d pleasure to know. It was Elio who wanted to move on, who was no more a son of my professor. That he was not _my_ Elio. He was staring at me without a fear left in his eyes. Without love. Or even some old affection. There was nothing.

“If you’re staying for couple of days maybe we should hang-out. I could show you city”

            It was lame and pathetic. And he saw right trough me. But I couldn’t let him go. Not now. Maybe tomorrow I’ll find strength to do right thing. But now all I could think of was to pull him to my chest, to crush his lips with mine, to kissed him  and with that kiss withdraw everything I’ve done wrong. Rend all pain and sorrow that I’ve caused. To see in those eyes my Elio, my precious Elio once again. It was all I was asking. Still it was too much.


	2. All I Want

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't supposed to continue this but somehow I can't just stop thinking about it. So maybe there will be more haging-out at some point. 
> 
> Above all - all mistakes are mine, if you find any just say - it mean a lot to me.

                There was nothing. Not even a glimpse of affection in those green eyes that I adored. And for that I had no one else to blame except myself. I’ve always hoped he somehow managed to have a _normal_ life. That after all … knowing me didn’t mess him up. But in the same time I was craving  to have done so. Because that simply meant he would always remembered me. I was a hypocrite. After more than 20 years of living, I suppose I knew myself pretty well. I wanted to have a cake and eat it. 

                I loved him in a time that we were together. I was utterly happy by simply be with him in the same space, in the same air that we shared between us. Yet I was selfish, I wanted more. Things that he couldn’t give me, even though it wasn’t his fault. Nor mine. I wanted make my parents proud of who I was. I wanted house, full of child laughter, spending days and nights with a human being that I adored completely. I wanted to be a dad. A dad of which my kids would be proud of. To help them exist in this cruel world, to hug them when they fell, to kiss them goodbye on the first day of school. Maybe it was what I dreamt about, yet it wasn’t something I eventually did. Not because I hadn’t had a chance. I got back from Italy and before I knew we were engaged. I could simply let things be, being with Karen meant to have … _to be_ everything my parents expected from me. But I found out you can’t lie yourself 24/7. You just can’t. Nor can you pretend to this beautiful soul standing next to you, when both of you are announcing you’re getting married, that you love her. Because obviously you are not. I supposed to be happy, I had a life my parents, _fuck_ even I wanted for me. What you want isn’t what you need. And what I needed was him. I couldn’t fooled  myself anymore.

                Once I woke up in the middle of the night. Sweating, blood rushing through my veins, heart pounding hard and heavy in my chest. I could barely breath. Each gulp of air in my lungs felt as someone was striking a knife in my ribcage. Not deeply, rather shallowly as without actual strength and meaning in act itself. I was dreaming about him, vision was blur, but I heard his harsh voice vividly in my ears. We were in Italy. Again. Standing in the balcony, our hands slightly brushing.

                “Why you left me?” he whispered. I turned my head to look directly in his eyes. He wasn’t supposed to say this. To ask about it. All noises faded away, silence fell between us, as I couldn’t force myself to speak. Not because I was worried how he would react, but because I hadn’t have an answer for this. I convinced myself it was better to let him go. He was young, unprepared for cruel world.

                “I’ve met someone” he added as seconds passed without my response for his question. I felt and heard as once again my heart broke into thousands of pieces. Lying on the ground in front of him as daring to collect them, to make it whole again. I knew it was impossible. One, crucial piece was in his hands, he held it tightly not wanting to let it fall. _I’m so sorry_ I wanted to say, but those words never left my throat as he vanished, leaving behind my shattered heart. I had only myself to blame. Because when I woke up that night, I realized that he wasn’t lying next to me how (in my mind) he supposed to. I heard steady breath of Karen, I felt her sweet scent in my nostrils and her leg flipped over my thigh. At the end I’ve finally realized I couldn’t truly desired it. I wanted to be happy, above all of things. Eventually it came to me that I won’t be happy placing other people happiness above my own. He was what I wanted. He was my happiness. He was my homecoming.

                We’ve met once again in small coffee shop. It was mere luck that I entered there. It was not my favourite place, it was only near to my department and I terrifically needed caffeine in my veins to survive that day. I haven’t seen him at first. I was always lost in my own thoughts and as rude as it can appear, I didn’t interact with other people casually. I found them mostly annoying. I was standing in queue, praying to finally grab my coffee and go out. I was easily heading out with paper cup full of steamy liquid, more concentred on my obligations than people surrounding me when I saw him. He was sitting near to the large windows, full of papers in the table in front of him. With slice of cake on small plate next to his big coffee mug. I smiled at that. I didn’t know what to do. He didn’t contact me after our last meeting and I couldn’t blame him. He was in all his rights to move on. With whoever person he want. Because even if I couldn’t let go, he definitely did. And once again it was all my fault. I didn’t contact him, I didn’t speak to him for all this years, I wasn’t honest with my feelings. But, as stupid it could sound, I hoped that somehow he knew it. When I almost decided to step back, even if my whole body went numb only at thought of doing so, he saw me. I could see clearly as he recognized me, but didn’t think it was possible that we could jump at each other in such place. Finally he smiled. It was that kind of smile as he was sure it would be rude to not acknowledge my presence in the same place (by simply pretending he didn’t see me), but not willing to have a casual talk with an intruder. Cold shiver went down my spine. That was exactly who I was. _An intruder_. How can you be something else if you left him?! How can you hope for something more than sheepish smile after 4 years of total silence?! I moved towards him, ignoring this annoying voice of my soul. Because I knew it was true. What was left after all was precisely _this._ Awkward smiles. Intruder.

                My body knew better than my mind, because while my brain was screaming that it was all wrong, because _we_ have to move on, because I was an intruder, every muscle of my body wanted just to be near him, to slightly touch pale skin, feel messy curls in my hands. Maybe, after all, I should pay more attention what my body wanted, despite all what was happening in my brain.

                “Hey” I said looking utterly lost in the situation, knowing that I wasn’t supposed to be there, yet feeling like it was just the right place to be. To fix everything. If it’s still could be fixed. For what I was waiting for? An invitation maybe? Casual nod saying “of course Oliver you can sit here with me, but it doesn’t mean anything”?  I didn’t know, so I just sit in front of him, occupying untaken armchair holding my cup of coffee in both hands, looking directly at him as daring him to say “you shouldn’t come”. Because as much as I wanted to be here with him, it was killing me slowly at the same time. And maybe, _maybe_ it was killing him too. And if he would say something I would know.

                And then like someone pressed button in his mind everything about him changed. He smiled, looking at me delighted. It was not what I anticipated. I had this unbearable feeling that I was talking with a stranger, a person I didn’t know at all and what hurt the most that it was him. My Elio. My precious, dearest Elio. _An intruder._

                “I live here” he said after a while and I couldn’t stand casualness and simplicity in his voice, obviously saying “it’s nothing, we’re just living in the same city”. He didn’t want me in his life, but foremost he didn’t _need_ me as I needed him. I died a little inside with that thought. I knew I should be happy, because he moved on. Somehow he managed to be happy. But as always I was selfish hypocrite and because I felt miserable I wanted he would feel also, in some, tiny part the same way miserable as I felt. I was wrong.

                “Are you dating someone” I blurted out without thinking. Or maybe I was thinking, maybe it was all just because I needed to know.

                “I am” he said slowly with a sincere smile on his lips. And I felt as something heavy tighten my heart. I couldn’t breathe normally, I wanted to scream, I wanted to run as far from him as I could. But above all I wanted to crush his lips with mine, to stop them from saying words that hurt me in the most cruel way possible, to show him that I didn’t move on, that I’m here now with him, wanting him, demanding to feel it all over again. But I couldn’t do this, maybe in some new life I’ll find the strength to do it, but for now I’ll let myself to live miserable, pitiable life. Because I deserved it.

                “Who is the lucky person? She or he?” I asked, sinking more in my own hell.  The hell constructed by me with my bare hands

                “It’s a she” he responded with pleasant smile and I wondered if he was thinking about her right now. If her silhouette appeared in his mind in a click and saying her name at loud would be a pray. I couldn’t know that, because after 4 years he was able to hide all of his thoughts and feelings behind this mask of his. God, how I hated that mask in every moment.

                “Who is she? What’s her name?” I asked finally and my voice cracked a little slipping how I felt about it and how much I wanted to know. I was masochist after all.

                “ Her name is Sara and she’s a scientist. To be more precise she’s making her thesis in physics department and I would be delighted to tell you what exactly she’s doing, but as I don’t understand a word when she’s explaining this matter to me, I can’t tell you.” He chuckles

                “A scientist?!” I ask bewildered as if it was only jest and in seconds he would tell me that he fell in love in girl named Sara who like he is an artist. She sings, plays piano, transcribe music. A perfect match. But he doesn’t do such thing.

                “I know it’s crazy. I don’t understand anything about her job and she loves when I play for her Bach or Chopin. But maybe in this chaos something is right, as they saying opposites attract.

                I didn’t say a word about it. We talk for some time more and he finally said that we should meet at some more set time and he insisted that of course I have to meet Sara. And I knew I would love her, because he loved her. And he always gathered interesting and wonderful people around him. And I also knew I would hate her. Not because she was with him, because he loved her and she loved him and they were together as any other couple in the world. No, I would hate her because she has what I couldn’t, she’s with him in that particular way I couldn’t. Or, to be just more truthful, in a way that I wanted but never have guts to do so.


	3. The change

Time changed us. It was clear from the very first second he entered to my office that day and became even more obvious after a few casual meetings. He was more reserved, more self-controlled than I remembered. I was trying to decipher if it was me who put this label of raging-teenager on him or my memories were just not accurate, because I’ve made a perfect Elio in my mind in all those years. Unblemished so I could cherish this creature in my heart. He now talked directly, without any restrains but also slowly and softly, seeing as he now didn’t have to say at high-speed, aware he should put all words together to say what he wanted to say in first place, because nobody paid attention to him. It was visible from the way he seated himself,  not throwing himself into conversation, speaking quickly with hands flying in the air. He was more relaxed, paying attention to all nuances of discussion, his gaze fixed in the persons eyes as if trying to read its soul. Of course his features had changed. His jawline now more defined, his hair a little bit longer and more curly because of it. His shoulders slightly wider. But what was unsettling me the most was the change in his eyes.

I was dumbstruck with this new Elio. More because I could see clearly that he changed. Maybe even more than I did. Back then I was a crucial piece that hold all his world together. A piece that could easily make him sad and happy in no time. But now I was nothing. Just a lost memory of a man, who once was, but is no more, important part of his life. I died a little at that thought. I could live with awareness that he moved on, that he shared his life with another person, that somehow he manged to be happy. But realising he didn’t need me anymore was killing me slowly. I couldn’t care less if he was with scientific-girl, whose name I wasn’t really try to remember. What I cared about was me and only me. _Me, myself and I_. Perhaps it was always that way. Perhaps, in the end I left him, because my life was more important than his feelings. Perhaps I left him, because I couldn’t bear the thought that someday he would left me. So I’ve played a wiser role, telling myself that I was letting him go, freeing him to do whatever he wanted, but deep down in my soul I knew that it was all for my own sake.

As after our first meeting I was craving to see him again, now all I wanted was to avoid him at all costs. Yes, I was going to work as always, but not making any effort to hide how miserable I was. I was spending evening, holding myself to not grab alcohol, because I was perfectly aware that if I have one beer, then I will have another and that would simply lead me to him. I knew I could not live like this forever, but for now existing as such mere creature was fine. I’ve mastered to perfection the art of lying to myself. I was doing what I was being told all my life. To fake. That you are all right, that everything is just fine, that you don’t need any help, that you are an adult, a grown man capable of resolving his problems. Well I was not. The more my fake smile grew wider, the more empty and numb I felt inside. Once I thought that living without him was undeniable torture. But life prove me that I was wrong and it could always get worst, because living, knowing that he just don’t need me anymore, while he is so close, yet so distant, was  beyond any pain I could recall. By avoiding him I could pretend that nothing else had changed. That he still was _my_ Elio, that there was no one in his life.

But as always everything changed. I can’t quite remember that day, just one from many others. Unremarkable. Simple as many others, yet different. I saw his invitation, while going through letters and I stopped, holding it tight in my hand, watching carefully as if in second it would explode in my face. Figuratively that was exactly what happened. I froze in place, unaware of what was happening around me. Simply staring, remembering after a while that I need to breath. Knocking on the door, woke me up from my spinning thoughts. It’s just cleaning lady, you idiot. I said to myself, after the idea, that it could be him crossed my mind. I wished it would be him, that would’ve meant that he didn’t forget. That he is still like _me._

The consciousness of what I’m going to do, hits me hard in the chest.  After all I’m just selfish hypocrite. I love him too much to be without him, but apparently too little to let him go.  

I was sitting in a back row. Nervous and sweating. Surrounded by people I don’t even know and frankly I don’t care. Because only person I care right now is on stage. He seats himself, carefully sliding his fingers on keys. He pauses and without any further introduction starts. I’m not a specialist, but I can tell that he’s playing hard classical piece, which requires a lot of talent and knowledge. He is wonderful. I’ve wrote a book and I was always thinking that words come easy to me. Yet I couldn’t describe what I felt hearing him playing again. There are sweet nuances in the manner he’s playing. I mesmerise myself in the music, closing my eyes, pretending that we are alone. Just two of us. And he is playing just for me. He’s coming to end with few lasts notes on the keys giving everything what it’s left in him for today. Masterpiece. And I open my eyes, sitting in my chair as everybody around me is giving him a standing ovation. I feel tears in my eyes, now perfectly aware of what I’ve lost.

I wasn’t prepared to talk with him after. Or, to be more honest with myself, I wasn’t prepared to meet him with her, because she was obviously there, in first row of course and now there were standing holding hands and I didn’t want to see this look in his eyes telling me, practically screaming -   _move on._ I went home and all I could think of was to numb myself, to not think anymore, to just exist with no feelings at all. I was tired, tired of trying and failing all over again. So I let myself go.

I stopped doing anything. I called to work the morning after his performance to say I won’t come for a few days, because I caught some sort of flu. I was a miserable liar and frankly I didn’t care if they would kicked me out. I didn’t want to pretend anymore and going there every day, faking, was endless torture. So I did the only thing no one ever let me – feeling my own pain.

The bartender gave me a stern look when I asked him (not very politely) I want another one of these. I could see clearly he was dwelling to pour me another shot. I could easily stand up and go to another place where they don’t care if you already drank too much, they just give you what you want. But the bar was quite enjoyable, not to crowded, delicate lights focused on the walls. I gave him a sad smile, when he placed another glass in front of me. I’ve took a good sip and instantly felt the burning sensation of the alcohol in my stomach.

“Oliver”

At first I thought it was my imagination alongside with huge amount of alcohol already in my veins, that procured I heard his voice saying my name. But immediately I felt his hand on my shoulder. Shiver went down my spine when I turned around and saw his concerned face. When my hand reached his right cheek, sweet current was pouring trough me starting with my fingerprints. I caressed his cheek with my thumb,  allowing myself for the first time since we met again to don’t hide what I felt anymore.

“Come on. Let’s go home”

I smiled at that statement. For a mere second indulging myself with the thought that we were living together and when we get home, we would kiss and cuddle and go to bed, bodies pressed together as it should be. He grabbed my arm firmly, helping me as we were going outside. I’ve felt dizzy, but I didn’t say a word that I can walk, because I was dying to feel heat emanating from his body, his hand now around my waist supporting me. And if that was all, he will ever give me, I will take it. I couldn’t tell how he knew where I live. But that flattered me, I could feel my lips curving at corners when he was opening front doors the let us in. We entered into darkness and before the doors shut behind us I crashed his lips with mine. I was pressing him to the wall, deepening the kiss, leaning to feel all his body on mine. Flesh to flesh.

My chest is raising and falling as I’m trying to calm me breath. He held his palms on my chest, pushing me  slightly away. I step back, giving him space, instantly aware of lack of his heat, his scent, his body. That was it, I finally managed to understand. It was a final step to close this circle of our history. Back then it was me who turned around and left him, not it was his turn. We were equal now and there was nothing holding ourselves to Elio and Oliver that we once were. I looked up, finding his eyes fixed on me. I remember everything. And I will remember everything.


	4. Speak or die

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was supposed to be rather happy chapter (I mean Oliver trying his best to gather up). But turns out at the end I couldn't help myself and my depression thougts. I suppose they'll be fine.  
> Lots of love!  
> Comments and Kudos are my fuel!

He was and he always will be the love of my life. But finally it came to me that I made a decision, it was my own choice and I couldn’t blame anyone, beside me, that I was utterly unhappy. Our life is full of our own decisions, the thing is in the time you don’t know if it’s good or bad. I can’t call it a _mistake,_ I personally believe we don’t make mistakes. We just – as humans – have this urge, this need to give it a name, because we can’t handle the truth, perhaps the knowledge would destroy what was left in us after all.

 

Maybe I was waiting all this time for him to just come. He with all his braveness and  boldness, finally saying things I needed to hear to let it go. Because I knew deep down in my soul, that I couldn’t live the rest of my life craving for my lost love. Perhaps now I could find a peace, not immediately of course, after all I was stacked  in limbo for almost 5 years. Now it was just about time. Time will fix me. Or it was what I wanted to believe in, because the thought of feeling numbness from now on was simply unbearable.

 

I was perfectly aware of what would help me, because I’ve done exactly the same thing after that summer. I’ve immersed myself in work, spending hours in my office looking trough my notes, books, keeping up with my lectures to make up wasted time. It was familiarity from which I felt assured. I was also running and hitting the gym a few times in a week, to give my brain a pause. Feeling ache in my muscles helped me in a way that constant work couldn’t. It was real, I could feel it as well as I could ease it. It was giving me a mere hope that someday the ache in my heart would be less present. Unnoticeable almost. As good I was in lying to myself, I knew it would never stop and it will always be with me. Because it was a consequence of my decision and I would carry it with me my entire life. It was a part of me and as much I wanted to simply ripped it off, it wouldn’t let go. And maybe I found something reassuring in it as well.

 

It pleased me in some mischievous way that I’ve finally accepted the terms of my life. I wasn’t happy, it was the simplest true lying in my hands. But I was trying all my best to live again and not barely exist as a mere  human creature. I knew my happiness was with him and if I wanted it or not it was the truth that I was denying over the years. I couldn’t get that, so I decided to be the best version of me without him, if that makes any sense.

 

I’ve left my house and decided to find some apartment more suitable for me. I wanted or rather needed a change of air and it was a simplest thing I could’ve think of. It was also a perfect time to get rid of all those things I was accumulating, sort all my books, notes, clothes. It was some sort of therapy that I never realised I needed. I found book Elio gave me and I smiled to myself, mesmerized in pictures of the past. My entire body was filled with the same happiness I’d felt that time, just because I was with him. When I was back in the present, with my heart aching, with tears dripping down my cheeks, I’ve placed it carefully in the box. I wished, looking at this tiny volume, that someday I won’t feel the pain and only pleasure because I lived that.

 

I’ve rented small apartment on seventh floor. I was slightly amused by all those changes with high hopes that they’ll help me cope with reality. But I knew the peace will come only if I find courage to reach him and make the final talk. Because as I was repeating to myself that everything was over between us, I was also aware that I needed to explain myself. Maybe even hear his voice saying _it’s ok, it’s over, but it’s ok._ Or at least it’s gonna be ok. But maybe I wasn’t ready, maybe my mind and body couldn’t handle more. Or maybe in some twisted way I was happy with this end, untold in some way. And I knew I could live with that.

 

It's kind of warm, lazy and rainy Sunday afternoon. I’m reading spread on the tiny couch with some other books and notes chaotically placed on small coffee table in front of me. I can hear knocking on the door and I stay still for a few moments. I didn’t expect anyone, frankly I hardly have guests visiting me, let one say about casual visit on Sunday’s. But I hear it once again, so I get up, carelessly throwing a book on the couch, making my way to the door. I could’ve lie and said that I expected him to come. The thing is I wasn’t. Maybe I’ve moved out not only to see a change in my environment, but because I knew it would be harder for him to find me. Yet, here he was, standing at my front door, looking at me expectantly.

 

“Can I come in?” he finally asked, seeing maybe my shock mixed with discomfort. I nodded, taking step back to make him space. I was standing next to the door, trying to calm myself, before I closed it and followed him inside with the clicking sound echoing in my head.

 

It was six months now from that night, so I took my time to look at him. It was probably the last time I would see him, so I couldn’t care less if he would notice that I was staring at him unabashedly. But he was more interested in my new place, throwing careful looks on every corner of my apartment. I smiled. He looked perfect in it.

 

“I hope I don’t interrupt you” he says after a while, standing in the middle of my living room, looking shortly at coffee table

 

“No, not at all” I say smiling, moving towards the couch “I was just working” I add, grabbing the things haphazardly and placing them on the table again in not so neat pile. I looked at him, I wasn’t sure about my feelings in that exact moment, but I’ve decided I didn’t want to lose the opportunity “Elio” I mumbled, making him look at me for the first time since he crossed the door of my apartment “I own you an apology” I start, but he just shakes his head, cutting me off immediately

 

“Oliver you don’t have to say anything”

 

“I have to … I need to” I responded with a sigh escaping my mouth. It’s harder than I thought it would be. I let silence fill the room, trying to pull myself together, because I wanted to say this so horrible, that I didn’t want screw it all, just by using wrong words. I sat on the couch, hiding my face in hands, prolonging for a few more seconds quietness that fell between us.

 

“Oliver” I hear him saying and the little crack in his voice undo me then and there. I know what I need to say, I know it’s going to hurt, I know there’s no turning back and it’s a point where I must say everything. What I’ve felt, what I’ve though, what I’ve always wanted. Yet, by doing so I would hurt him more. But I needed so badly to get it out of my head, that once again I put myself above him. After all I was a _fucking_ egoist.

 

“I have to apologize you for so many things, that I don’t even know where to start” I chuckle. It’s true, but it’s hard to admit it at loud “Maybe I’ll start with the easy one, then”

 

“Oliver you really don’t …

 

“I’m sorry for that night in the bar” I continue, cutting him off, because I know myself too well, if he keeps saying that I would stop. And I need to keep going, for our both sakes “I shouldn’t have kissed you. I was drunk and definitely not in the right state of mind, but there’re just excuses that I’d keep telling myself. I was so desperate to be with you again, to feel you, to just hold you that I suppressed all your feelings. That you were uncomfortable, that you just wanted to help me. I didn’t have any right to put you in this position. You are in relationships and I took advantage of your help, it’s disgusting. But it was something that I needed, I suppose, to finally understand. And I need to say I’m sorry I couldn’t let you go when you asked me to, when I put my feelings above yours, which I did countless of times before and after. There’s no excuses why I did so, only that I couldn’t handle the truth laughing directly at my face that you move on with your life, that you didn’t need me anymore. I apologise you for my cowardice, for my luck of empathy, for being such egoist all this time.”

 

“Oliver” he interrupts me once again

 

“Let me finish, I need to say one more thing” I explain with flat voice, drown from emotions “I’m sorry that I didn’t believe in us. In you foremost. That I choose the easiest way by walking away from you just because I didn’t want to see you walking away from me in few years. I’m sorry I took for granted that what you felt wouldn’t stay long. I’m sorry for taking away your right to make that decision for yourself. I’m sorry for all those things that hurt you, that made you cry, for those that I know and that I don’t. I’m sorry that knowing me cause you pain. I’m sorry”

 

Finally I’ve said it. I should feel a relief, wave of peace in some sort coming trough my whole body. The final quietness in my thoughts. But it just didn’t happen. Maybe after all saying this all at loud wouldn’t change a thing.

 

“Oliver I don’t …”

 

“No” I say my hands in my tights fisted “You don’t have to say anything. You deserve to be happy. You deserve to be with someone who deserves you. And I hope with all my heart that this girl is the right one” I can hear the words echoing I the room. I know their meaning, but I don’t understand them. Then I think maybe it’s something everyone is saying. Those are words you should say. The proper words. The words that makes you a good person. Not a selfish bastard you’ve always been. I finally look at him, tears starting to appear in my eyes and I want hold them so badly, because I can’t cry now. Not in front of him. I want him to know that I’m fine. Or rather I’ll be. I want him to know that it’s not his fault. Only mine. And I hold his gaze trying with all my heart to convey everything I want but I can’t manage to say in this look. He stares back, nodding absentmindedly and I can hear as my body cracks, falling down piece by piece until there’s nothing left. Because I choose to die.


	5. The appearances and breakdowns

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took ages to write. Sorry about that, it's almost finished!

The appearances, I finally understood, are nothing and everything on this world. That caring about other people opinions, makes you unhappy, because you don’t care about them. You don’t even like them, so why on Earth they should like you or have opinion on what are you doing with your life. Almost my entire life I tried to please everybody around me, starting from my teachers and obviously ending on my family. Because I was craving for love and approval. Because I was too happy with making them proud that I didn’t understand that it was not happiness. That it was mere feeling of belonging to something or someone.

Did you ever ask yourself what makes you happy? What makes you proud? What do **you** want? I didn’t. Because maybe if I would contemplate my life and my desires, the aftermath would be different. Not sad or happy. Only different.

And I’m thinking about all of this, looking at him when my body can’t handle more and is now lying in pieces on the floor. I can feel tears coming to my eyes and I’m too far gone to care about this now. Because I’m staring at him and all I can think of it’s that I could have all of this. I could have him.

I wish he would start yelling at me. Not only for what I did in the past, but for what I’ve said now, for everything I did since we’ve met. But he just is. Standing there. And all I want is to reach him, touch him and make all this go away. Place my hands on his back, making soothing circles, until he can be himself once again. But I don’t because I know I can’t. I feel trapped in my own apartment, he’s to close and to distant at the same time and all I can do now is wait. I open the window and let oxygen fill my lungs. I can’t do more so I concentrate on breathing. Inhale and exhale. Until I can feel my muscles relaxing, tension leaving slowly.

“Why now?” he finally asks and I can’t even look at him. Because if I did my own eyes would betray me. I stare at the city, people living their own life, completely unaware of mine. The thing is that I’m not even sure I know the answer for that question. Or at least believable one.

“Because I wanted you to know” I say finally and as fast those words escape my mouth I wished I could take them back. _Fucking living egoist. That’s what you are._ Dead silence fell upon my skin as uncomfortable layer of sweat. My hearts beats violently in my chest, somehow providing oxygen to each cell.

“Don’t” I hear and I collapse. His voice shattered, filled with such anger I didn’t even knew he could feel. Once again reminding me that it’s all my fault. I want to scream, to shout. To let the guilt flow around me. The guilt that is eating me alive, piece by piece. I can’t take more. Tears are rolling down my cheeks, while I’m sitting on the floor. The waves of unbelievable pain crashing through me. I can feel him looking at me. Oblivious perhaps of what had happened. Concerned of my well-being. And I can’t stand it anymore.

“Go” I whisper “Just go” My voice cracks. I hear the sound of closed doors, echoing in now empty space. I am alone. And I can feel my whole world collapsing.  

 

* * *

 

 

How long take to start living again. The question without answer. Perhaps it’s true that I don’t deserve to be happy. As my mother once said to me ‘ _you will be happy if you will do something for another human-being. Selfless’_. I didn’t quite understand this until few months ago. It always seemed to me she was talking in her Christian way. That you should help people who need help. Be modest and act like a decent human. And maybe she was talking in that exact way, though the under-surface meaning was more enlightening. Perhaps I should’ve listened to my mother more precisely or at least more carefully. It must be some sort of joke, that me of all the people, actually admit considering my mother advises. It’s shocking. But life is truly unwritten story. I smile a little and watch as Jenny looks at me. I do like her. I really do, but – and of course there’s a _but_. She is not what I want. It’s that simple. Although simplicity of that statement doesn’t make it easier to handle. She wants to try, I’m fully aware of that, but I don’t want another disaster in my life. I have all certainty of the world about how it would end. She’s a good friend. And I’m better with friends than lovers.

“Why are you smiling?” she finally asks, putting down book and watching me expectantly

“I just thought about my mother. Unfortunately I would have to tell you almost everything about my family, so you could fully understand the context, but it’s too boring and doesn’t really matter anyway”

She nods unconvinced. I see in her eyes disappointment, she wants to hear everything about me, my work, my family. And while I’m forever grateful for her presence, I can’t imagine talking with her about those kinds of things. Perhaps my judgment is wrong, but I don’t want her constantly digging in my life. It would give her hope, which she shouldn’t have even now. I’m back grading the papers, when the hard knocking on the door, startles us both.

I stare at him. His face that I was sure I won’t see again. I don’t know why he is here. Why after everything I’ve said that day, he came back. Perhaps he wanted to say something, but I didn’t give him a chance before. I’m standing still, holding frame door to ground myself. I’m speechless and he looks a little bit out of place.

“Oliver is everything all right” Jenny voice come with her and Elio looks at me horrified. I want to grab him, hold him before he leaves, but I don’t have a chance.

“I’ll be back” I say to Jenny and go running after him, hoping it will be enough.

 

* * *

 

The Friday nights are always the same. You go out or not, you always wake up on Saturday, no matter how hard you try. Once again I’m alone in my apartment. Now with all honesty I can tell that being alone doesn’t scare my anymore. I finally reach a point when it matters more to be alone than with anyone. The worse part of it that I’m thinking too much. But I try to shut my mind and enjoy myself.

I’m searching through paperwork’s, looking for the thing I have pictured clearly in my mind, when I hear hard knock on the door. I check my watch, startled seeing the hour. Except Jenny no one comes here, I never invite them , I never want too. Beside that I know that is not Jenny. Knocking repeats and I put aside all papers and approach the door, slightly concerned about who would come here at 1.30 am in Saturday very-early morning or still very-late Friday night.

He’s drunk I know instantly as I open the door. His curls are total mess and he still has a bottle of vodka in his hands. Half empty now. He tries to walk inside and fails miserably not able to stand anymore. I grab him around his waist, feeling instant warm spreading through my body. And I try really hard to shut my thoughts from spinning and concentrate on his current state. He mumbles something incoherent, which I can’t quite decipher. He leans over, pressing himself more into my body and I bite my lip to prevent low hiss escaping my mouth.

“Is she here?” he asks

“No” I say. Because it’s true, because for now he doesn’t need to know more. Because now all I have to do is help him. He looks at me expectantly and I’m frozen in place when he leans forward and brushes his lips against mine. It’s gentle and soft and it only makes me want more. He steps backwards. Green eyes locked on me.

“You don’t like me anymore”

“What?! Elio you’re drunk. You need to sleep, you need to go to bed. You need to stop before you do something you would regret tomorrow”

It looks as if he doesn’t listen to me, because he opens the bottle and sips a big shot.

“Elio please” I plead, moving forward “Please stop this”

I’m afraid if I’ll touch him, I would be lost. Sending to nowhere all my sanity. But I know I need to take the bottle from his hands. I need to save him. Because once again it’s all my fault. And if it means I end up hurt, then let it be.

I grab him by his wrist, holding him in place, using all my strength against his drunken body.

“Stop” I say firmly, dropping the bottle carefully to the ground.

“Is she better than me? Is she makes you happy? You said everything to me because you wanted to move on, because you wanted to fuck some pretty little girl. Because you fucked me and that didn’t mean anything to you. And now you don’t even want to touch me. I am disgusting. Is that what you think of me?!” his voice high and harsh

“You don’t know what are you talking about” I snap back not able to resist myself

“Tell me then. Tell me how wonderful you feel fucking her?!”

“Is that what you want to know?! You want me to describe with full details how hard I fuck her every night?! How fast I pound into her?!”

With every word I come closer to him, the distance between us disappearing into a thin air. What’s left is rage and anger and the most inappropriate words each of us can muster, vibrating in the space, echoing in the moments of silence.

“Or you want to know” I say standing in front of him, feeling his vodka-breath on my lips. The battle was lost when I opened the door, I’m good at pretending, I was doing it all my life “How every fucking minute I’m thinking about you. How every fucking day I want you with me?! How I get angry thinking about you with her?! Or how I want you in my bed, debauched, messy, limp. How I want all of this and how I can’t have all of this?! How – “ he cuts me off, leaning forward and crushing our lips together. The flood of relief waves through my whole body, making my knees weak in an instant. Elio mumbles something against my mouth, but I can’t understand, my blood rushing in flames through my veins. I stop thinking when he pushes me and my back hits the wall, kissing me fiercely. Leaning all over me, his body pressed to mine, his hands on my hips. I want to savour this moment, make it last forever. But I’m too lost in heat of his body to care about those things now.


End file.
